riverviewlogs | (open) old man yells at tree, and other things

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(open) old man yells at tree, and other things

who: the Doctor and YOUUUU
what: find the Doc in various locales, up to the usual nonsense. a thing explodes.
when: 19-24
where: the university; a rooftop; the jungle
warnings: nada, most likely

the university, afternoon.

[ for the most part, since starting his job here, the doctor's managed to pass himself off more or less as a normal college professor, teaching a normal class about time travel (and occasionally exobiology and space farming and thermodynamics and--), spending his evenings grading normal papers. normally. it works out - he's a skilled orator and he honestly enjoys this work (specifically, the part where he gets to listen to himself talk passionately for hours on end in front of a captive audience), and is more or less content to devote a chunk of his work week to doing so. besides, he actually needs a little money right now, appalling as that notion is. so he has taken a certain amount of care not to make waves yet. by, say, blowing anything up.

except for this one afternoon, when he accidentally blows something up.

it starts as a whizz, a bang, and a deafening POP! followed by a cloud of white smoke billowing out of his open office door. from inside, you can hear the hssss of a fire extinguisher, as the doctor, his hair comically swept back, puts out a small fire from an inscrutable piece of machinery laying atop his desk. the thing looks like it was cobbled together out of garbage. which it was.

work in progress!

several students' papers may be beyond repair, unfortunately, though. ]

some rooftop somewhere, night.

[ the following night, if you happen to be hanging out on a rooftop, for whatever reason - brooding or something, i don't know - you may find this old fellow with his handmade machine. this time in working order.

although what 'working order' actually means in this case is anyone's guess. the device looks like the unholy amalgamation of a tape deck, an umbrella, a carburetor, three whisks, and a panasonic orbitel television, among other things. little bits of it spin. it softly boops every minute or so. it's playing what appears to be five games of pong layered atop each other at once on its screen. nobody is winning.

the doctor's pacing around in front of it, his thinking face on. every now and then he stops to stare at his creation, tapping his fingers to his arms. whatever information it is displaying doesn't appear to be what he's looking for. it's been going on for a while. ]

the jungle, whenever.

[ because if a place is clearly dangerous, walled off and under watchful guard, of course he's going to head straight out into it. he's not too far from the inhabited city, at least, this time. but he's clearly unarmed and unarmored, and at the moment - yelling at a tree.

or rather, scolding a thing that's in the tree. some sort of cat-like being, from the looks of it, with something shiny and silvery held tightly in its jaws. the doctor clearly wants this thing back, but alas, isn't really a climbing-trees type. just gonna have to resort to his skill with negotiation. ]

Listen to me - don't eat that! You cannot eat that! You can't even use it - you haven't got thumbs! And even if you had, a little brain like yours--

[ the cat thing chomps down harder on it, glaring. ]

--Look, I've got a fish sandwich! Let's trade! Honestly...

etc.

[ if you've got something else in mind, go for it! or pm me to plot things out. ]

Threaded | Flat

[Chloe's become fond of spending her time on the roof of the community center building. It helped her clear her head when she needed space to think and when she wanted her time alone from her roommates. Especially at night, when the strange constellations of this faraway moon that she never fathomed existed twinkled overhead, dimmed by the soft glow of satellites. They were beautiful, in their own alien way.

But it seems she's not alone tonight. At first she'd been content to leave the man be to his own devices, not usually being one for interruptions. But the more he tinkered away at his strange contraption, the more she found herself glancing over periodically, curiosity and something like amusement beckoning her towards him.

She waits for a moment before she speaks.]

You make that, uh... thing yourself?

[ Clark's weekends are for trekking in the forest. He used to wear the suit and cape because he often encountered monsters, but these days he has proper hiking wear. They're deep blue and he has a jacket that can zip up with the red S emblazoned on it, with a yellow background. Much more practical than his ancestral clothes.

He's out with the baby Kryptonian kite tucked into the front of his jacket. Its head pokes out and swivels back and forth as it takes in the new environment, eyes half-closed. It's not sleepy, because it sometimes lets out its alien screech. He figures it's getting used to the new environment.

The yelling draws his attention first, and then he notices this person has two heartbeats.

What surprises him is that this gentleman is unarmed in this area of the forest. ]

Excuse me. Are you in a hurry?

[ The cat will get tired of chewing whatever that is eventually, right? ]

[ Adam has been part of the captive audience in the time travel class. All the material and tangents are fascinating to him, and he's a good student—asks questions, always does the reading, always shows up to class.

He's coming by, in fact, to ask something, but the sound of the explosion stops him in his tracks. It's only when he sees the smoke coming out of the office that he thinks to actually help.

So he pokes his head in, eyeing the machine before making his presence known. ] Uh, professor? Should I—get someone?

[ Romulus isn't here for the Doctor or anything like that. In fact, he's got a little friend trotting by alongside him to see Professor Sycamore for a few more questions when the explosion goes off. The human startles, but the pokémon darts forward with a loud and inquisitive call.

It hardly takes a moment for Romulus to chase after it, scooping Teddiursa up when it gets to the doorway. ]

Shhh, no, please don't do that...! [ Without really noticing that they've found themselves at the door of the explosion itself, he addresses whoever might be in the room: ] We're very sorry, please don't be angry—

[ Wait. His brain catches up and he turns to actually look inside the room. Whoaaaa. ]

S-Sir... Are you okay?

Threaded | Flat

the rooftop

[ jungle; 24th ]

university

university;